


In A Blink

by IvyOverEasy



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Center focus is fenhawke but merrillhawke is p big too, Domestic FenHawke, Dumb Cheesy Idiots Being Dumb Cheesy Idiots, F/F, Fenris Has Issues, Hawke Has A Twin, Hawke is a giant massive nerd fanboy, I promise I can write somewhat decently, Just not while I'm weeping over Fenris shoving himself up my ass, M/M, Rogue! Hawke, SPOILERS!!!, This is really really messy please forgive me, but this is really just someplace to dump drabbles, femhawke gushes over merrill a lot, including not being able to read anything other than storybooks, so don't look too much into it, tags update with each chapter, the timeline is a fucking mess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-02-09 17:47:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12893421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvyOverEasy/pseuds/IvyOverEasy
Summary: Short drabbles of semi-domestic fenhawke that are really all over the place.





	1. Thought

**Author's Note:**

> Lots of errors and inconsistencies but I needed to get something out to express my love for Fenris so hMM

Hawke is small for a human, slight and unimpressive; even as he's hurtling himself into Fenris's mansion, stone golems on his heels and a string of curses strong enough to rival Isabela on his lips, he's utterly unintimidating. Hailed as a champion throughout an entire nation, but shorter than the elven companions he keeps nearby. He trips, rolls, and is back up on his feet in an instant, eyes darting across the room until they land on Fenris, leaning against a wooden table that's littered in reading material. 

"Fenris!" Hawke cries--yelps, really. Hawke shouts in alarm when a giant stone fist curls itself around his ankle, grappling for the little knife strapped to his belt for one desperate moment before the golem starts to lift him into the air and he _kicks_ it instead. Hawke howls at the impact, but the golem lets him go, and he skitters over to Fenris with wide eyes. 

"Fen--" He grabs at Fenris's tunic, tugging on the giant broadsword sling as if Fenris doesn't understand. Hawke withers under his glare. "Come on, I'm sorry I'm late, but I--" 

Fenris is sighing, shrugging Hawke off and drawing his sword. It's grip is familiar; different than the blade he had first met Hawke with, now put away fore safe keeping, but dangerous none the less. He dispels the stone golems with two mighty swings, sheathing his sword even as the stone is still crumbling into the ratty carpet. 

"Hawke." He says, and the human jumps, smiling sheepishly. 

"Sorry, Fen..." He opens his mouth, and then snaps it shut, running his hands through rusty, wild hair; a nervous tic, one that's particularly irritating when he sustains a head wound and won't stop touching it. 

Fenris watches him for a long moment, and then shakes his head, moving out of the way so that Hawke can push the rock corpses around excitedly, looking here and there for trinkets that the massive guardians tend to carry with them. "Leave it to you to bring ancient creatures all the way from the Deep Roads to Hightown." 

"Hey!" Hawke exclaims, holding up a coin he finds amongst the stone and grinning. "They weren't in the Deep Roads. They were on the surface, I just happened to be in the wrong place when they woke up."

"And here I thought _dwarves_ were born liars." 

"Well, you're not wrong." He says, still smiling idly as he stands and tucks away a single gauntlet into his pack. He joins Fenris at the table, accepting the spectacles that Fenris hands over with rosy cheeks. "I've been wondering where these were, figures that I left them with you." 

"You left them at my bedside." Fenris corrects, and Hawke somehow makes himself look smaller. 

"Right." He clears his throat, clapping his hands together and then waving them around as if he can dispel the sudden tension in the air. Miraculously, it works. "Anyways, I brought more books! Qunari and Tevinter text this time, both from scholars, and then--" He hefts his pack onto the table and Fenris wonders how such a small man can carry it around without falling over. "--Storybooks. My favourite." 

"Storybooks." Fenris repeats, incredulous. It goes right over Hawke's head.

"Storybooks." He confirms, positively beaming as he pulls a novel as thick as his forearm out of the pack. "This one is about--" 

"The Hero of Fereldan." Fenris squints as he looks at the text, and Hawke's smile softens with pride. 

"That's right," He says softly, sweetly, and hurries to usher Fenris into a chair before perching on the edge of the table, legs crossed. Hawke is tender with books, more gentle with them than he could ever be with another human being; Fenris is convinced that he is the only one to escape Hawke's clumsy touches and awkward pats, and _only_ because Hawke favours him enough to let him control most of their encounters. 

"The Hero was Dalish," He says, wistful, thumbing open the book and reaching for Fenris's hands to let him lead their pace, trace the ink and learn the letters himself. "In fact, he reigned from the same clan as Merril; although they didn't interact much before he was recruited into the Wardens." 

Merril and Hawke had formed a friendship over the pursuit of knowledge and wisdom, and it had grown stronger as the years passed, especially with Merril and Hawke's sister's involvement; Fenris had no doubt she had gifted him many of the books regarding the Dalish, or the Hero. A number of the texts had been written in Dalish, footnoted in Merril's messy writing, although Hawke hadn't pushed for Fenris to learn the language when Fenris denied. 

"There was a witch, in the Hero's company." Hawke continues, dragging his finger tips so gently across the pages. He asks Fenris to repeat, to spell the words as he passes over them, and smiles, reaching out to pet Fenris's head fondly. "The witch and the Hero fell in love, and rather than sacrifice her lover or the king, the witch took the power from the archdemon when it was slain and put it into the babe in her belly." 

Fenris knows this story--he's heard it many times, both from Hawke and awed citizens of Kirkwall--but there's still a sense of anticipation, a tingle of excitement and dread for the next step in the story. 

"The witch disappeared after the battle, and told the Hero never to look for her." Hawke says, fingers stilling at the corner of the page for just a moment before he keeps reading. "But the Hero was determined to find her, and, leaving his party and the Grey Wardens behind, he--" 

"Hunter." Fenris interrupts, and Hawke looks up, blinking. 

"Yes?" He's evidently surprised by the use of his given name; Hawke itself has become selective to him alone, especially after Marian began calling herself with Amell and Bethany was taken to the Circle. "Is something wrong? Am I going too fast?" 

Fenris eyes him for a moment, and then shakes his head, drawing his hands back from the table and Hawke both. "Let us do this later, it is getting too dark outside for you to see without candlelight." 

Hawke frowns. "I can just--"  
  
" _No_." 

He will not let Hawke entangle himself with magic anymore than he already is. He is too lenient with the few spells he can cast, never weighed down by the burden of being a mage like his sisters, never held under the threat of execution or imprisonment for simply living as a free man. Fenris isn't sure how much it will take for him to transition into the realm of real magic, not just silly spells for clairvoyance, and so he won't let him risk it. 

Hawke pauses, thoughtful, and then shrugs, and it's a relief; Hawke will do what he wants, regardless of what Fenris has to say about it. It calms his heart that Hawke at least considers his opinion. "All right. Then I'll go lower the chandelier, and you put the books away." 

"And the writing utensils?"  
  
"Leave them. There's something else I'd like to try before we quit entirely." 

Fenris doesn't ask, watching Hawke almost bounce out of the room before he turns and busies himself with stacking the books into a pile and carrying them towards the shelves that Hawke had brought in just weeks ago, insistent that they couldn't leave the novels lying around everywhere. Fenris hadn't argued, watching him fumble and drop the heavy wooden planks onto his feet for hours before Hawke finally shyly asked for assistance. For such a tinkerer, he was astonishingly bad at manual building; Leandra had banned him from trying to fix anything in their estate after he dropped and shattered the heavy brass chandelier while trying to replace a candle holder on it. They were lucky that Bodahn had a knack for home repair because none of the Hawkes seemed to. 

"Candles are lit!" Hawke calls as he peeks back into the room, positively grinning at Fenris. "Wanna practice your name?" 

"Not particularly." 

"Come now, Fenris, don't be difficult." Hawke laughs, taking his comment in stride and rolling with it, this time leaning over Fenris's shoulder as he pushes him into the chair. He's warm, smelling like woodsmoke and leather and herbs from mixing poultices and medicines under Ander's supervision, and when he stretches an arm over Fenris to reach for a charcoal, Fenris seizes his arm, forcing Hawke to look down. 

There's a heavy pause, Hawke's cheeks rapidly warming and Fenris's expression still, and then the red haired human laughs, wiggling his arm free and peppering kisses over Fenris's face, lips dusting near his mouth but never on. 

"Fen," He says, affectionate as he pries himself free just a little, fingers lingering on Fenris's arm. "Let's practice for a little while, and then go to bed, yeah?" 

"You're staying?"

"Should I not?" 

Fenris rolls his lips in, silent. Hawke smiles at him. 

"Marian and Merril both shooed me out of the estate, I can't imagine they'd want me there for the rest of the night." Amazingly, his cheeks don't splotch red when he says that. He looks more contemplative than anything. "I could always go to The Hanged Man, but sharing a bed with you seemed much more pleasant than sharing one with a cockroach." 

Fenris glances over at him, eyes alit in mirth. Everytime Hawke shows his face around The Hanged Man the patrons cheer for him, reminiscent of the time he outdrank the resident strongman. He had almost thrown himself into the sea that night, opting at the last minute to throw himself at Fenris and land them both on a cargo ship, waking up hours later and scrambling for clothes amongst giggled apologies and ducked heads as they ran from the ship and the livid captain. Isabela has yet to let them live it down, a ready witness of the entire event. 

"Fenris," Hawke calls, drawing him out of his thoughts. His spectacles are set on the table, dark eyes wrinkling at the corners when he smiles. "Are you tired?" 

"Yes." Fenris lies, and Hawke laughs, draping himself over him to press fond lips to his cheek, half grinning. Fenris catches him by the mouth, and Hawke almost topples over, ungracefully groping for Fenris's arms to keep upright. When they part, he scoffs, winded. 

"You're awful." He says, leaning into Fenris when he rises from the chair to guide Hawke away from the cursed papers and learning tools. "Absolutely horrible." 

"I learn from the best." Fenris inputs, casting him a pointed look, and Hawke kicks him. 

"Rude man." He grumbles, throwing the duvet off of the bed and onto Fenris, but they're both smiling. 

 

 


	2. Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fenhawke fight after fenris sides with a demon during the Night Terrors quest; all over the place and with no real rhythm, didn't get everything I wanted to but hMM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unedited :>>>

 

Marian is gentler than her brother, a strong woman with similar looks and opposite personalities. She is mature, steady and grounded in herself, kind but never to the point that it could be taken advantage of. She's a comforting personality amongst the seemingly common theme of chaos in their party, and it's no wonder that Merrill took to her. 

"Fenris," She says when she opens the door, surprised. "Is there something I can help you with? Surely you know that Brother is out now, he told me he was spending the night with you." 

He wonders briefly how Hawke can be so upfront about where he's going and what he's doing, but it's a passing thought. There are more important things he needs to discuss. 

"Marian." He greets, nodding his head. "I came to speak with you." 

Marian's pretty face contorts just briefly, like she's confused, before falling into a pleasant smile. "Of course. Come in, our home is yours." 

She steps out of the way to let him in, and he ducks his head as he enters, following her request to wipe his feet on the thin woolen mat near the door. She leads him past Bodahn and Leandra, who waves to him from her seat near the fireplace, and ushers him into the library, pausing at the door to make sure it's shut securely behind them. 

Marian is a gracious host even now; she makes sure he's seated and comfortable, transferring flames from the fire onto the torches mounted on the walls to give the room light, even though she fans herself with the collar of her robe. It's only after she takes a seat herself, crossing her legs comfortably and turning her body towards him, that she begins to speak. 

"You said you came for me, but somehow I feel like you won't be chatting my ear off." She grins at him, her hands folded neatly on her crossed knees. "So should I start?" 

"If you would." 

"I will." Her eyes glitter, amused, and she moves her hand to rest her elbow on the chair arm and her chin in her palm. "You know, twenty five years ago, my brother came into this world unbreathing." 

Fenris straightens, alarmed. Marian smiles at him, eyes slid to their corners in response. 

"Not breathing, not moving... If our father hadn't reacted and gotten his little heart to start beating, I'm sure he wouldn't have lived at all." Marian shifts, tilting her head against the high back of the chair. "Magic didn't save his life, but it saved mine. I was weak, but at least I was born crying; my father told me that if the magic hadn't sustained me from the inside, I would have been stillborn, killed weeks before Hunter was birthed." She chuckles, shaking her head. "My mother had twins twice in a row, I don't know how she did it. It must have been a nightmare, but she did. Father said she was up and walking just days after, too!"

Marian laughs and Fenris has the grace to smile, just a little. She settles further into her chair, relaxed, eyes shut and hands resting on her stomach. 

"He was a crybaby growing up. Didn't help that most of the other children picked on him for being so small. He used to stuff straw into his boots to be taller, oh, Fenris, it was the cutest thing. He got so upset when Carver pulled it all out." Fenris wonders how she can sound so unbelievably fond of someone--of her entire family. How she can care for a people so deeply that it practically drips from her voice. "He used to tell me, 'I'm going to grow big and become a knight and marry a beautiful woman, just watch me!' Oh, it was so cute." Her grin is almost sly, knowing as she watches him glance away guiltily. "He didn't exactly marry a beautiful woman, but I think he's happier with a handsome elf, anyways. Beautiful women are overrated." She pauses, thinks, and then quickly adds on, "Except Merrill, of course. She's just as wonderful as you would think." 

Fenris cringes, but he's happy that Marian can be so deeply in love to the point where she can gush about it; she had seemed so horribly alone those first years, striving as the oldest and with a mind so set on protecting her family that she had lost all genuine hope for it. She's happier now, healing, and it relieves him to see an old friend recovering so fast. 

It almost escapes him that she's a mage. Almost. 

"He loves you." She says, suddenly, and Fenris whips around to look at her. She's watching him like she's gauging his reaction, but even then he knows that she's going to tell the truth. "I don't know if he's ever said so himself, but surely you know? He tells me all the time, 'oh, Mari, I want to be with him forever, I want to spend the rest of my life beside him.'" She grins, as if she's telling someone else's secret (which she most certainly is), and rolls her neck, looking at him. "Has he told you?" 

"No." Fenris is a little shorter than he means to be, and he opens his mouth, searching for a way to elaborate. "He's never... said a thing like that." 

"That he loves you, or that he wants to be with you?"  
  
"Both." 

Marian hums, looking disappointed. "What a shame. Do you think if I kicked him in the bum to get moving he'd trip and propose?" 

Fenris raises an eyebrow. She grins, shrugs, and turns to face the fire again. 

"Whatever you came to talk to me about," She tones after a moment, letting the peace sink into them both. "I'm sure I can solve it for you. So, give me at least a vague hint at what it's about?" 

"Your brother." He says, and he means to say more, but she interrupts before he can find the right words. 

"He cares about you, but he's worried." She picks at a bandage on the side of her hand that he's sure she's not supposed to touch. The habit must run in the family. 

"Worried?" He repeats, and she nods at length. 

"He's afraid, too. Thinks you're going to clam up on him, suddenly shut him out or turn him away because you don't want him to see you hurting." She turns to look at him, head cocked and eyes sharp, and Fenris's throat constricts; whatever he says next, he can't lie. She'll know--and, from the few confrontations he's had with Marian in the past, she _will_ call him out on it, and she _will_ find out how he's going to deal with the situation through pushing buttons and deceitfully manipulative words. She's a feared woman for a reason outside of magic, gentle as she may be. 

"You're not, are you?" 

Fenris manages to tear his eyes away, staring at the chipped brick before the fireplace and evening his breathing. There's a long, long pause, but the silence never draws thick or tense--something that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, for Marian is alarmingly good at disarming people, forcing them to keep their guard down and let her in. 

"I don't know." He says at long last, chosing the truth over Marian pulling it from him herself. 

She shifts to sit back, contemplative, humming softly in the back of her throat. 

"Honesty suits you." She says, but he's not sure he agrees. 

* * *

 

Hawke won't look at him.

He's apologized. He's told Hawke it would never happen again, that his loyalty remained, that he was blinded only briefly by that cursed demon. He's tried--he's trying, still--but despite Hawke politely agreeing and telling Fenris that he believes him each time, Hawke still won't look at him. 

He won't touch Fenris. The previously long hours spend reading by firelight or with arms hooked around each other are slowly but surely replaced with cool, faux kindness; Hawke's brilliance fades around him, his personality dimming, and Fenris can't stand it. 

A part of him is angry. Hawke chose to take him into the Fade despite his insistence that he wouldn't be the best option. But that part of him is foolish, he thinks, as Hawke gave him a choice to leave, to send Merrill in his place. Fenris cannot pass the blame, but even acknowledging that does nothing to better Hawke's rapidly degrading opinion on him. 

"Hawke." He says, and his voice is tired. Hawke pauses in the doorway, hand on the frame and stiff; unmoving. "You're not staying?" 

"I've business to attend to."

"Take me with you." 

"I'd rather go alone." 

It stings, having Hawke trust him so little. The advantage against him is unfair; Fenris was faced with a _demon_ , he wasn't prepared, he hadn't planned things out in such a way. But fault is fault and Hawke has every right to be angry with him. 

"If you are upset, then tell me how to make amends." 

"I'm not upset." 

"You lie." 

Hawke _whirls_ , dark eyes landing on him and nearly physically making Fenris recoil. " _I_ lie? _I_ do not pledge love and loyalty and then throw it away at the promise of _power_!" 

"It was not the promise of power." Fenris says feebly, although the moment he says it he realizes he's misspoke. Hawke's face hardens, lips thinned and eyes narrowed. 

"You turned your blade against me, under the instruction of a demon. Merrill I expected, but _you_ \--" He sounds older, exhausted and enraged all at once, trembling voice barely contained. "For all that you preach about mages becoming abominations, you were just a breath away from becoming one yourself." 

Fenris is slack jawed, wounded, and Hawke turns away in a huff, rushing out of the mansion. The door slams shut behind him, and Fenris leans back against the heavy wooden table, arms crossed and chin to his chest. 

Hawke doesn't come for their lesson the next night. 

Fenris doesn't seek him out. 

* * *

 

It takes both Isabela locking them in the cellar of The Hanged Man together and Marian blatantly refusing to let them out when she finds them for both Fenris and Hawke to snap; it is teeth on lips and fingers knotting in hair and belts, Hawke's shoulders pressed firmly against the cold stone of the wall and Fenris's forehead knocking against his. 

"I'm sorry." They say between rushed kisses and breaths, hands skating across skin. Over and over, and endless mantra as they're moving against each other. Hawke throws his leg up and over Fenris's hip and whimpers near his ear, hands immobilized by the fingers pinning them back, and whispers, "I love you, I love you, I'm sorry, I--" 

Fenris bites him and Hawke cuts off with a strangled cry, pressing his face into Fenris's shoulder as he finishes between them. 

Afterwards, as Hawke is pulling his leggings on and squatting down to tie his shin guards on over his boots, Fenris cards a hand through his hair, already fully dressed. Hawke glances up at him, blushes furiously, and then accidentally rips off one of the laces to his gauntlet as he's trying to put it on. 

He swears, and Fenris kneels, lips dusting over the crown of his head. Hawke is pointedly looking away, guilty and embarassed and unsure how to act. 

"I love you." Fenris tries, and Hawke huffs. 

"I was a _massive_ asshole." 

"I... deserved it." 

"No, you didn't," Hawke gives up on trying to repair the gauntlet string, dropping it on the ground in favour of grabbing Fenris by the forearms and staring at him. "Well, I mean, yeah, some of it, you kind of dicked me over with that whole demon thing, but still... I was too harsh, and didn't try to understand. And I'm sorry." 

Fenris opens his mouth to object, and then shuts it quickly; if he argues now then they're just going to launch into another month long warzone that has their other companions shifting nervously, afraid to speak, and them at odds and on opposite ends of the city and only interacting through harsh grunts and glares. He'll take what peace he can get. 

"You are forgiven." He says instead, and Hawke looks up at him, blinking slowly. "And I am...?" 

"Forgiven, of course, Fen, I can't hold anything against you for very long." Hawke is laughing, leaning forward just enough to have Fenris chasing after him when he leans back. He grins, thumbing at the high bridge of Fenris's nose, pushing hair out of the way. "So..." 

"So we would find a way out of the cellar before Isabela catches us and realizes what's happened." 

"Right."

"Right."

They stare at each other for a long minute, silent; and then Hawke breaks first, a smile spreading and cracking up, hunching and then falling back onto the floor in laughter. Fenris follows, his chuckles softer, letting Hawke run fingers through his hair and smiling contentedly. 

When Isabela bursts through the doors not an hour later, they are both gone, the smell of sex and all of the alcohol casks tipped over and opened onto the floor the only traces left to linger. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want Isabela to step on me


	3. Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the chantry burns. hawke burns with it.

The day that The Chantry is destroyed is the day that Hawke cracks. 

Fenris has never seen him as angry as he is now, so enfuriated that bouts of shouting and violence do not emerge, but rather an unsettling calm, eyes dark and heavy and his knuckles straining through the fabric of his gauntlets at his side. He's reminded abruptly that Hawke is a warrior, a full grown adult capable of bitter anger and hurt just as the rest of them are. To see him without a smile on his face and a playful fire in his eyes is beyond disconcerting. 

"I'll leave your... _friend_ , to you." Orsino says softly, a note of distaste corrupting the hopelessness in his voice, and Hawke stiffens. 

"He is no friend of mine." His voice comes out flat, hard and fast, and Fenris sees Merrill flinch back in the corner of his eye. Hawke's fists curl so tightly that the soft leather stretched over his palms makes a sound akin to the tearing of paper, and Varric takes a pace backwards, as if Hawke is a bomb on the verge of exploding. 

"Orsino." Marian says from her brother's side, her calm never failing. Although it's clear that she is grieving--whether it be over the Grand Cleric or their current predicament, Fenris does not know--she is composed, her expression smooth and her hands folded diplomatically in front of her. She is the eye of the storm and Hawke, if something does not happen soon, is about to become the wind. "Go to the Gallows. Gather the mages, and have the elders take the children to the back courtyard. It appears we are in head of a war that has come too quickly, friend." 

Orsino speaks again, calls to the mages, but Fenris is watching Hawke, who reaches for their younger sister and pulls her into an embrace that seems crushing. His hand falls to the back of her head and he presses her into his shoulder, arms tight and expression stern. There are words exchanged that Fenris cannot make out, nor does he desire to, and when Bethany extracts herself in order to exchange fleeting embraces with Marian, he sees that Hawke's complexion has grown alarmingly pale beneath a few stray smudges of dirt and gore. Still, his face is hard, and his eyes are burning holes into the crate that Anders sits on, furious. 

Marian touches his shoulder, whispers something that is only for Hawke to hear, and then releases him just as quickly as he marches towards Anders, fixing the steel knuckles sewn into his gauntlet. Anders does not look at him, and Hawke does not seem to have the patience to worry over it. 

"There is nothing you can say to me that I haven't already said to myself." Anders whispers, and Hawke, with his lips pressed tightly together and his fingers still clenched, hits him so hard that both Anders and the crate tip onto their sides. 

" _Bastard_." He hisses, drawing his fist back as if to punch Anders again and then pausing, forcibly pulling it down with the other hand, as if the urge is overwhelming and an entire half of Hawke's body wants to fight against his will. "You nug-licking, yellow-bellied, swine-piss _bastard_. We had a home. We had a _home_ , we finally had a home again, and you-- _you_ \--" 

Fenris half expects Marian to step in and stop him when Hawke drives the toe of his boot into Ander's side, but she remains still at Merill's side; there is a sort of sadistic glee in her eyes and he's sure that she shares Hawke's sentiment. The better part of a decade rebuilding the home that they lost only for a foolish mage to tear it down without thought; Fenris can imagine their anger. 

"I should kill you." Hawke growls, voice pitched low and crouching down to drag Anders up by the collar. He stares the elder man in the eyes, all five and a half feet of muscle and anger and sorrow, and when Anders tries to avert his eyes, Hawke's voice unexpectedly raises as he roars, " _Look at me_! Look at me, you bastard!" 

Merrill flinches back again, her hands tangling in Marian's skirt. Isabela's brows shoot up as if she's impressed and, for once, Varric is still, watching the scene with brows drawn and shoulders squared. Fenris, even as he's watching Hawke draw Ander's dagger from his belt, is impassive. 

"Hawke!" Aveline interrupts, and there's a shuffle of armour as she steps forward. Hawke doesn't look at her. "Stay your hand. Neither you nor I have the authority to decide his punishment." 

"Aveline. Aveline, our home is _gone_." 

Fenris has never seen Aveline physically shrink back before; not from demons, nor the Qunari or the high dragon they encountered that she stared dead in the eye. Fenris has never seen Aveline visibly falter, and yet there she stands, her shoulders rising stiffly and her eyes fluttering as if Hawke had stepped to physically attack her. She blinks once, twice, three times, and Fenris is not certain whether it is because of how horribly pitiful Hawke had sounded in that moment, or whether Aveline's hairs are standing on end from his uncharacteristic behaviour. 

"I won't kill him." He says to Aveline, although he is looking at Anders with eyes that would speak otherwise. His fingers are still fisted in Ander's collar, holding him up at an awkward position from the ground, and he lifts the dagger he retrieved from Anders slowly. With startling, masterful precision, he drags the tip of the blade across Ander's cheek, flinging it away in a random direction as the shallow gash wells up with blood. "He's going to fix his own mess. And then afterwards, he's going to flee or face my blade, for he is just as much an enemy now as the templars, and we are only brought together in a temporary moment of need." 

Aveline doesn't seem to want to argue. She presses her lips together and shakes her head, and, with the sound of leather rubbing together, Hawke stands, dropping Anders to the ground. 

"Heal yourself." He demands, eyes sharp as he glances once at Anders and then turns to face the lot of them. "Marian. Aveline. Go directly to the Gallows and drag this swine in the dirt behind you; they need level headed leaders and Orsino certainly cannot calm the mages himself." 

Marian's fingers flex in the small of Merrill's back and Fenris watches their hands lace briefly before she's stepping forward, her smile gracious. "Of course, Brother. When should we expect you?" 

Hawke's eyes soften as he reaches out and touches his sister's face, smearing dirt from her cheek. There's a long moment of unspoken words, the connection of twins and siblings and best friends, and then Hawke's hand is falling and he's shaking his head, a humourless laugh breaking free of him. "You shouldn't." 

Hawke, the Champion who inspired as a symbol of hope, is suddenly utterly, unabashedly hopeless. Marian squeezes his hand with delicate fingers and whispers something under her breath to him and Fenris realizes that she is, too. 

"Merrill," Marian chirps as she turns away from Hawke and approaches the rather unintimidating mage. She takes Merrill by the hand, pulls her close, and kisses her so hard that Isabela lets loose a whistle, and Varric laughs under his breath. Aveline is shaking her head and, when Marian parts enough to press her forehead to Merrill's and wave her finger at the rest of the party to turn around for a moment, her cheeks are as red as her hair. 

"Indecent." She mutters upon hearing a soft sound that surely came from Merrill.

Isabela, peeking over her shoulder at the couple, laughs. "They might die, we all might die. At least they're having fun beforehand." 

Aveline and Hawke clasp hands and shoulders when they make to separate, and Aveline holds their joined hands in front of them, her fingers curved around his shoulder pads as she looks him in the eye and speaks softly, quietly. Hawke's expressions change; surprise softens into resign, and grief warms into watering eyes as he leans forward and hugs Aveline with his whole body, and then releases her and turns to begin passing instructions, directing Isabela to stay near Varric and Merril to stay between he and Fenris. 

A gloved hand slides into his as they're watching Aveline rather effortlessly pick Anders up from the ground by his clothes and Fenris glances over at Hawke, who smiles despite the fact that he looks exhausted. 

"Long day, huh?" He says softly, and although there are a million things Fenris would like to say, nothing comes out. "I don't think I made a mistake. Save for not skinning Anders alive, maybe, but the mages in the circle are not at fault. They do not deserve to pay a price they did not provoke." 

"You are a fool." Fenris says, and Hawke laughs.

"I know." Fingers tangle more tightly and Hawke leans into him, lips tracing his jaw and nose and ears until he's kissing Fenris very lightly and smiling against dark skin. "A fool's end shall come for me, then, for I am going to be hit by a stray fireball from one of our own mages when I run across the battlefield to kiss you in celebration of our victory."   
  
"This is not the time." Fenris tries, but his voice breaks and his lips twitch into a smile at Hawke's sudden lack of concern--or, rather, his acknowledgement. Hawke is doing more than staring death in the face, this time; he's embracing it, calling upon it like a long lost friend, whispering that if victory does not come to him then he will gladly plunge himself into it. It's heartbreaking and terribly beautiful all at once and Hawke raises their entwined hands to dust a kiss over Fenris's knuckles before he's smiling briefly and letting go to dart about like a humming bird, checking packs and weapons and breaks in their defenses that he can repair in the short time they have before the chaos begins. 

Hawke, unintimidating Hawke that speaks too quickly and flees at the sight of stone golems and dragons, who tangles his legs with Fenris's and whispers about a dream of an island surrounded by blue water and white sand; Hawke, who looks at him like he's the whole entire world even while standing in a city that's crumbling around them, leads them into the battle of their lives with his head held high and his voice loud. 

Hawke, sprawled out on the ground with blood pooling from his head, is no longer breathing when Fenris finds him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anders in DA: Awakening is best boy and sweet baby but Anders in DA2 rlly pissed me off lmao 
> 
> I romanced Merrill when I played the game again and her armour change in the third act is gorgeous

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not really back and this is messy but I replayed DA2 and took the Fenris romance route and I love him drastically more now for some reason and it's really hard not to keep choosing him in my other playthroughs


End file.
